Short Fiction – The Stories In Between

Of Prophets and Rivers

I sat with an old man on a weathered bench near the bank of a section of river most don’t come to anymore. He welcomed

I sat at the edge of something, contemplating anything. Like so many times before, I try to look up, but could only stare down into

How did I find my way here? It wasn’t supposed to be this way, was it? Looking down at my hands, I see them holding

Her father looked over the mess she had made. She could tell by the look on his face he was disappointed. She hated that look.

“There was this kid I knew growing up-” “You are welcome to talk about whatever it is you want, but I was hoping we could

“Holy shit! I didn’t think it was loaded!” “Well, that big fucking hole in the wall says otherwise, doesn’t it? God dammit, you know I

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